


Always Gold

by happygiraffe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Cancer, Catharsis, Emotional Baggage, Everyone Needs A Hug, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not kidding this one's gonna be a sad ride, More Hurt Than Comfort, Sickfic, Whump, and other JA characters, guest appearances by Siri Tachi, pretty blunt & honest descriptions of symptoms too so beware, spoilers in the tags, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygiraffe/pseuds/happygiraffe
Summary: "Someday he's planning to visit every star in the galaxy." Obi-Wan stated this childish goal as if it were completely reasonable. "But I only want to show him a few, while I still can."Obi-Wan is trying to secure his padawan's future, since the healers tell him he won't be around to witness it. Anakin's just trying keep from falling apart.





	1. i. Anakin

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @Maeve_Pendergast for crying with me and providing advice & patience  
>  
> 
> p.s. I'm now doing fic updates/requests and fanart at happygiraffe.tumblr.com!

* * *

_“Does everything go away?”_  
_Yeah, everything goes away._  
_But I’m gonna be here ‘til forever  
__So just call when you’re around._  [[X]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqc2uOunPdA)

* * *

 

 

i. Anakin

 

Padawan Anakin Skywalker tilts onto the back legs of his desk chair. He runs his fingers along the beads woven into his braid, wondering if it will feel strange not to have them constantly resting on his shoulder. He is ready for tomorrow – he has been itching to take the Trials of Knighthood for some time now and he is confident in his skills. He wonders why he feels more nauseous than excited.

The summer heat is so oppressive that Anakin’s pretty sure the droplets on his window are condensation rather than rain. It inevitably dredges up memories of that first summer, when his braid hadn’t yet been long enough to touch his shoulder. That year the heat and humidity on Coruscant had upset the automated climate system and broken multiple records, but Anakin doesn’t recall the specifics of them. Instead, its sweltering afternoons and smoggy sunsets are set down in his memory as the summer that Obi-Wan got sick.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan had never lied about it, Anakin was quite sure of that. But he had a way of twisting his true words to deliberately make Anakin believe something untrue. He’d cited headaches or late nights or errands he had to run, and at the beginning Anakin had no reason to doubt him.

At least, not until the day he got out of lessons early and came home to the muffled sound of retching coming from the refresher. Within Obi-Wan sat crumpled against the wall, vomit all down his chin.

“Master?” Anakin squeaked.

Obi-Wan startled and something flashed in his eyes that made Anakin’s blood run cold. It was gone in an instant as Obi-Wan regained control of his mental shields. “’m fine,” he panted before Anakin could ask. He hastily sat forward and wiped at his mouth with a handkerchief as if that would convince Anakin it was true. “Just get out.”

“Are you—”

“You don’t need to be concerned,” said Obi-Wan, his hand drifting absentmindedly towards his pocket. Obi-Wan always reached into his pocket before he told a not-quite-lie. He had a special pocket sewn into each of his robes to hold his shiny black river stone, the one that Master Qui-Gon had given him for his thirteenth birthday. “It’s usually not like this, I...um, the healers had me try a new kind of medicine today, and we’re still finding the right balance.”

“Master, why—”

Although Anakin was only ten, he had spent enough years repairing strange travelers’ ships to sense when someone didn’t want to answer questions. He bit his tongue.

“It is _nothing_ , Anakin,” Obi-Wan practically snarled. “There is nothing you need to worry about. Just…go start your homework.”

Anakin still stood frozen like a startled tauntaun.

“Please.” Obi-Wan looked like he was making an effort not to puke again. Anakin scurried from the doorway. Sure enough, the retching continued as soon as he was out of sight.

It was too hard to concentrate on homework. It occurred to him that Obi-Wan had not been expecting him back so early, that he’d thought he had time to clean up before Anakin got home. He’d never known his master to hide things from him before. That was the first night Anakin spent examining the ceiling, confused by the tightly wound worries swirling in his stomach. It wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

 

After that, Anakin started to notice things that had seemed insignificant before. Impromptu naps and unexplained bruises, and a handful of painkillers Obi-Wan choked down before training that Anakin wasn’t supposed to see. How often he had to sit down during ‘saber class, or skipped it altogether and sent Anakin off to train with Master Tachi and her padawan Ferus.

The more Obi-Wan avoided it the more it felt taboo, like something so scary they weren’t allowed to talk about it. He began to fall behind in lessons, but his teachers responded with fake smiles instead of reprimands. The summer weeks waned into autumn, and Anakin still had more questions than answers.

“Anakin, has Obi-Wan talked to you about Werrn?” Master Tachi asked cheerfully after another ‘saber class where Obi-Wan was mysteriously absent.

“Sort of.” Anakin and Ferus’s group had a training mission coming up in two days. Anakin had never been on one before, but he couldn’t bring himself to get excited about it.

“You’re going to spend the weekend with Ferus and I. We’ll meet you in the hangar that morning. 0700, okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” mumbled Anakin, knowing he was being rude. Obi-Wan had already explained that he would not be accompanying Anakin to Werrn, even though everybody else’s master was going and it wasn’t fair. They reached the corridor where their paths diverged. “Thanks, Master Tachi.”

Anakin let himself in. At first he didn’t think anyone was home, but he soon found Obi-Wan asleep on the ‘fresher floor.

“Master, are you okay?” asked Anakin, attempting to shake him awake.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” Obi-Wan groaned, unwilling or unable to hold a conversation beyond that.

When it grew late Anakin fixed himself a sandwich for supper and placed a blanket around Obi-Wan’s shoulders before he put himself to bed. He didn’t even try to sleep.

* * *

 

A whispered conversation halted abruptly when Anakin emerged for breakfast.

“Good morning, Anakin,” said Master Bant, who was sitting at the table with Obi-Wan while the latter picked at his food. Obi-Wan’s face was red where he had obviously tried to rub away the tile marks from the floor.

Bant pointed him towards a bowl and spoon set on the table for him. He poured his cereal, waiting to see if the adults would resume what they were talking about. They chatted lamely about the ‘saber class Bant was preparing for next rotation until Anakin had eaten and left.

He told himself he wasn’t _intending_ to eavesdrop as he gathered his lesson books, but it was a little too easy.

“It’s just a training mission—”

“His first,” Obi-Wan countered.

Bant sounded exasperated. “Maybe you’ll get to go on the next one, Obi.”

“Maybe!” Obi-Wan huffed. Anakin paused to listen harder. “Bant, nothing is normal right now, and I have no kriffing idea if it ever will be again. I just want to keep my life together as much as I can!”

“I’m sorry, but I think Che has a point,” said Bant. “It might be a good distraction for Anakin too; you both look like you’ve been trampled by bantha lately.”

There was a strained pause. “I’m trying,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“I’m sorry, Obi. I’m sure you’ll go on the next one.”

Anakin slipped out the door without saying a word.

The image of his master passed out on the cold tile floor followed Anakin all through his classes. He thought about it as he ate, as he trained, as he packed his things for the departure the next morning. He thought about it as he lay on his back, begging and bargaining with the Force to get to sleep that night.

Anakin’s head pounded and his eyes were so tired they stung. It was no use. The ball of worry in his stomach felt like it was eating him from the inside. Timidly he crawled out from under the covers and padded into Obi-Wan’s room. The bed creaked as Anakin climbed up.

To his surprise, Obi-Wan was awake too. “Anakin?” he whispered hoarsely as he reached for the light.

Without waiting to be invited, Anakin curled up close against Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around him in his slightly awkward way, as he often did when Anakin initiated more physical contact than he thought was proper. Now was Anakin’s chance to ask all the questions that had been keeping him awake but he found it was too comfortable like this, letting Obi-Wan just hold him and saying nothing.

“Force,” Obi-Wan sighed under his breath. There was a long pause. “I’m sorry about the trip, Anakin. And I’m sorry I haven’t been paying more attention to you lately.”

“It’s not that,” said Anakin.

“Then what?”

Anakin hid his face in Obi-Wan’s tunic and mumbled.

“Anakin,”

“You’ll be upset,” Anakin said into the fabric. “You always say that it’s...it’s not for me to worry about, but I can’t help it.”

“What?” asked Obi-Wan.

Anakin reached out to touch the bacta plaster that barely covered a thumbprint-sized bruise on the inside of Obi-Wan’s elbow.

“You’re worried about me?”

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan inhaled, then exhaled carefully. “There’s no need for you to be worried. But I’m not upset. I never meant for you to think you weren’t allowed to feel what you’re feeling.”

“But…next week…”

“Anakin, it’s my job to take care of you, not the other way ‘round. Your job is to learn and enjoy your trip.”

Anakin held Obi-Wan tighter. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s face with one hand and filled the Force around their yet-immature training bond with all the warmth and calm he could conjure up. Anakin accepted the energy and felt his anxiety melt away, relief weighing heavy on his tired eyes.

“Give your worries to the Force, little one,” Obi-Wan murmured. He flicked the light off again with a wave of his hand while Anakin yawned, still using his arm as a pillow. “It will guide us both, one way or another.”

* * *

 

For the first few hours, Anakin slept more soundly than he had in ages. But when he woke, the horizon was still dark and the warmth in the Force was gone. He realized to his annoyance that Obi-Wan had once again ducked out of giving him a proper explanation.

Anakin’s senses warned him that something was about to happen moments before Obi-Wan’s fingers violently grabbed a handful of the sheets.

Anakin sat bolt upright. Every muscle in his master’s jaw was rigid and the grinding of teeth could be heard. He braced against the pillows with his hands trembling out of control.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin blurted out. “Master, wake up!”

He grabbed one of Obi-Wan’s hands but it continued to tremor, jerking Anakin’s whole arm with it. Anakin tried poking him and yelling and even shaking him by the shoulders a little, to no avail. “Stop it!” he demanded. “Master, stop!”

It finally occurred to Anakin that he should call for help. Obi-Wan had written a list of important codes next to the comm unit for him when he explained how to use it. Anakin punched in the one for the healer’s wing.

By the time someone picked up, Anakin was in hysterics. The female voice on the other end patiently wheedled the details out of him. “I need you to stay calm. Make sure he’s breathing and hasn’t got anything in his mouth.”

Anakin was having a hard time listening. His brain was running at breakneck speed, and not in the good way like when he’s sparring or flying.

“Padawan?” the voice from the comm pressed. “If there’s any furniture or hazards near his head, try to—”

Obi-Wan went completely limp, limbs slack and head slumped against his shoulder. Anakin let the comm fall to the floor.

After a long minute of Anakin listening to his own heartbeat in his ears, Obi-Wan’s eyes opened halfway.

“Master?”

Obi-Wan groaned and tried unsuccessfully to lift his head.

There was an urgent knock at the door. No sooner had Anakin palmed it open than three healers and a hoverstretcher clamored into the apartment. They spoke to one another in terms Anakin didn’t understand. One shone a penlight in Obi-Wan’s eyes while another took his blood pressure.

A healer nearly tripped over Anakin and scolded him for being underfoot, so the padawan retreated to the far corner of the bedroom. Obi-Wan looked awake but was still unable to speak as they lifted him onto the stretcher. Anakin tried to follow them out the door, but the healers forbade it. Then, as quickly as it all began, Anakin was alone with only the sound of nocturnal traffic drifting in from the window.

Morning came, and somehow Obi-Wan was both prepared for and utterly blindsided by what it brought.


	2. ii. Obi-Wan

He’d been 15 the first time. Qui-Gon had wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder and helped Master Che explain it to him. They’d shown him pictures of the tumor in his neck. “We can fight this,” Qui-Gon had promised. That day had been the first in a grueling 17 months of specialists and surgeries, Qui-Gon dragging him to medcenters all over the core worlds. The memory that stood out most vividly was trying not to cry in the mirror as he watched Qui-Gon struggle with his padawan braid. His hair had fallen out in chunks until there wasn’t enough left for even his master’s deft fingers to plait – but not for lack of trying. Qui-Gon had always been there, from the first day through every appointment and every treatment afterwards.

When it was over, remission felt like it would last forever. Qui-Gon had taken him out for his first drink. His master hadn’t cared that he was underage, and when he heard the occasion, their old friend Dex hadn’t either. The Jawa Juice had made his throat burn, but they’d clinked their glasses a lot. Obi-Wan’s fight had been his, too.

Last summer, Qui-Gon hadn’t been there to squeeze his shoulder when a routine scan had turned up more cancer in the lymph nodes in his neck, underarms, and thighs. The most absurd part was how normal it felt. The endless appointments, waiting rooms, healing crystals, and droids with needles for hands all blurred into an endless pattern; he’d been through it all before. But everything had seemed more daunting now without his master beside him. It wasn’t just a fight, it was a battle, and he was the general faced with all the tough decisions.

The prognosis was…well, bad. They weren’t very hopeful about a cure, but they told him he might stop it from spreading—maybe for years to come—if it responded well to medication.

“And if not?” Obi-Wan’s voice was mechanical, numb.

“Let’s take one step at a time.”

Telling Anakin had never even seemed like an option. He barely knew how to react himself, so how was he supposed to add Anakin’s complicated emotionality into the mix? It was hard to hide what the medications did to him—his thinning hair, the nausea, the anemia that made him feel faint when he tried to keep up with Anakin in the dojo—but he made excuses. He was fortunate to have caring friends – Bant, Siri, Garen – who were there to help, sometimes before he’d even asked.

He had taken Vokara Che by surprise the day he strode into her office demanding to be un-grounded. Anakin’s first training mission was only a few days away. “I have no interest in sitting around the Temple waiting to die,” he reasoned, lightheaded indifference in his tone.

“Kenobi, your immune system is severely weakened,” Master Che reminded him.

“Does it matter?” he persisted.

“It matters. You have time ahead of you to spend with your friends and your padawan. I won’t watch you gamble it away by catching some flu virus on Werrn.”

Obi-Wan shrugged as if he didn’t care.

“ _No_.” She leaned in over her desk and regarded him carefully. “Are you taking this seriously?”

“Of course, Master,” said Obi-Wan, frowning. He tucked his datapad under his arm and bowed before he turned to leave. Che found herself sorely wishing Qui-Gon Jinn were there.

Anakin looked so crestfallen when Obi-Wan told him that Siri would be chaperoning him on Werrn that Obi-Wan almost caved and told him at least part of the truth. But he convinced himself that it was better this way.

Siri had finally spoken up then. “Obi, I know you think that this is selfless, but-”

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “I know how selfish it is.”

Siri gave him a puzzled look.

“It’s horrible, right? I’m pretending I’m really going to be here for him, be here to cut his braid when he’s knighted. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like pretending because he still believes it.”

“Obi-Wan,”

“I promised Qui, didn’t I? I swore that I would train him!” Obi-Wan’s voice wavered in frustration, gripping the railing of the platform until his knuckles were white.

“Your master didn’t know this was going to happen,” Siri admonished gently. “What do you think he’d say to you now?”

“The Force will provide a solution,” they groaned in unison. Obi-Wan finally smiled.

“I’m just worried about both of you. You won’t be able to hide forever,” Siri pointed out.

“Oh believe me, I know.”

* * *

 

There was a difference between being aware of the inevitable and actually facing it. There was no more hiding when Obi-Wan awoke in the Halls of Healing. It took him a few minutes to remember how he had gotten there.

“Kenobi, listen,” Master Che handed him a piece of flimsiplast.

She explained that there was a new growth on the inside of his skull, putting pressure on the left temporal lobe. It was spreading fast, and they had exhausted their treatment options.

Obi-Wan studied the Master Healer’s face, but it was unreadable. “What does that mean for me?”

“In most cases, the seizures are preventable with a simple Force-healing technique. We can teach you how to do it at home. However, as the pressure on your brain increases you might begin to experience memory, speech or vision problems…” Che sighed. “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan. I have to advise you to consider shifting towards palliative treatment.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. They had dangled the possibility of years before his eyes, but suddenly he was looking at weeks. “There’s nothing else – no experimental meds that might be worth a go?”

“We can keep you comfortable.”

Obi-Wan inhaled slowly, imagining Qui-Gon beside him. Imagining a strong arm at his back, never allowing him to lose faith. “We’ve fought so long, we can’t just…” Qui-Gon wouldn’t have wanted him to _give up_.

“This is not giving up, young one,” Master Che corrected him. “It is simply a change in perspective. I advised Master Jinn not to use that type of ‘fighting’ metaphor with you, but you know how seldom he deigned to listen.”

 _Qui-Gon, listen? Force forbid._ Obi-Wan smiled. “It helped me.”

“But it makes this part harder,” said Che gently.

Anakin, it was discovered, had spent the night in the dark waiting room, and had refused to leave with Siri and Ferus in the morning. He would not budge until the healers agreed to let him see his master.

“It’s time,” Che warned Obi-Wan before she let the padawan in. “He deserves a chance to prepare.”

Obi-Wan nodded in defeat.

* * *

 

The Living Force was amplified in the gardens more than anywhere else in the Temple. Obi-Wan made his way there as soon as the healers released him and sat down beside Anakin in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Obi-Wan had never had the same affinity for the Living Force as his master or his padawan, preferring the contemplative study of the Unifying Force, but here even he could feel it pulsing around him like a heartbeat. Its calm power, bubbling in the stream and flowing through the foliage gave him the strength to begin.

“Anakin.” They were practiced words and they came out stiffly. “What did the healers tell you about what happened two nights ago?”

“That you had a sez—a seizure.”

“Right. Well, they found out that it was caused by a tumor that’s growing right here.” Obi-Wan indicated behind his left ear. Anakin reached up to touch the spot, and Obi-Wan let him. “You can’t feel it from the outside.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. But someday it might affect my ability to do certain things.” Obi-Wan watched Anakin mull that over. The kid seemed mostly calm, a little bit curious. Obi-Wan took a deep breath for the next part.

“I am growing closer to the Force, Anakin. I will have to return to it soon.”

Anakin blinked as if in a bright light, mouth hanging open. “Is that the same as dying?”

Obi-Wan might have reminded him that to a Jedi there is no death, but he wanted to make sure that Anakin understood. Che had warned him that euphemizing could confuse some children. “Yes.”

“Why?” Anakin demanded.

“Because eventually the illness is going to make my body stop working.”

Anakin pondered that for a moment, and came up with a solution. “The healers can make it better, that’s their job!”

“No they can’t.” Obi-Wan shut his eyes for a long moment. “I’m going to tell them I don’t want any more medicine to try and make it better, because the side effects—”

“What?!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, fighting to remain in control of his voice. “It wouldn’t make any difference. I want to make the most of—No, Anakin, listen!”

Anakin yanked his hand out of Obi-Wan’s grip and scrambled to his feet with a look of betrayal.

“There will be plenty of people to take care of you when I’m gone. You will still be a Jedi. I don’t want you to worry about any of that,” Obi-Wan explained, trying to steer the conversation back.

“You can’t leave!” yelled Anakin, taking a step back.

“Sit down!” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to snap, but at least it startled Anakin into obeying. Obi-Wan reached into his pocket and leaned forward.

“Put out your hand, young one.”

Anakin looked wary.

“I was going to leave this to be passed along on your thirteenth birthday,” said Obi-Wan. “But you’ll have another master then. I won’t take the ritual away from you two.”

Anakin was surprised to feel warmth radiating from the object that Obi-Wan placed in his palm. It was smooth and black and streaked with crimson – Anakin recognized it immediately. His river stone.

“B-but this is yours.”

“And now I am passing it on to you.”

“You should keep it. It’s special because it’s from him,” said Anakin, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He still held his arm out, looking from the stone to Obi-Wan’s face in confusion.

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan patiently. He had thought long and hard about how he would connect this to what the stone had taught him on Phindar years ago. “Our memories are the most important things we have. Sometimes people come and go from our lives, but—”

“I don’t want this,” Anakin declared, dropping the stone into Obi-Wan’s lap as he stood again. “I don’t want another master, I don’t want you to die!”

“Anakin—”

“No!”

He was surprised to see Anakin so angry—so _attached_. A horrible thought struck him. If Anakin had formed such a volatile attachment to his master in their short time together, the Council would have even more reason to discourage his training. What if they sent Anakin away? What if no other Jedi stepped forward to train him? Obi-Wan retrieved the stone and held it out again. “This is sudden, I know, and I’m sorry for—”

“I don’t want your dumb rock! I hate you!”

Anakin stumbled a few steps back before he turned and ran. This time Obi-Wan let him. He put his head between his knees and let the tears come.

* * *

 

It was late when Obi-Wan returned to their quarters, but Anakin’s light was still on. He knocked and a sniffly voice said, “Please go away, Master.”’ Obi-Wan did.

Obi-Wan remembered the constancy of Qui-Gon’s smile, always honest but never despondent when he had gone through treatment the first time. Qui-Gon had never allowed him to lose heart, and if he had doubts or worries of his own, Obi-Wan never sensed them. He had assumed Qui-Gon’s faith was such that he simply trusted the Force to guide them out of the nightmare that had become their lives. But could there have been moments, hidden behind closed doors and shaking hands, when his old master had felt exactly like this?

They didn’t speak about what had happened in the gardens for several days. Obi-Wan shut the cupboards a little too loudly. Anakin fell further and further behind in his lessons.

But time wasn’t waiting for them to clear the air. Even though some of the nasty side effects from his earlier treatments faded, Obi-Wan found that his balance was affected and katas that once came easily to him became difficult to perform. He began to catch himself forgetting things, and learned to recognize the look of confusion on Anakin’s face that meant he’d just asked the same question twice.

Obi-Wan learned to recognize the lightheaded feeling that preceded a seizure, and with some trial and error he learned to put himself in a trance to prevent it. If he didn’t do it exactly right, he would end up with a migraine afterwards. One day it was so bad that Obi-Wan couldn’t stand up or keep anything down, and once again he had to ask Siri to take Anakin to ‘saber practice.

Anakin was sweating through his tunic by the time Ferus pushed him off his feet. He landed softly on the padded dojo floor, but before he could coordinate a counterattack, he found a training saber hovering above his throat for the third time in a row.

“Surrender!”

Anakin growled and summoned his own training saber back into his hand. Anakin could keep up when they did drills or when Siri tested their skills individually, but fighting a real match against Ferus always reminded him of how far behind he was, which stung.

“Hey!” barked Ferus smugly. “Surrender, I won!” Anakin kicked him in the shin. “You can’t do that, you’re dead! Cheater!”

Ferus’s training saber made contact with Anakin’s shoulder. The zap made Anakin yelp, more out of surprise than pain. “Ow! Solah! Ferus!” Anakin ignited his own saber and swung for Ferus’s legs, leaving a scorch mark across the calf of his leggings. He rolled up onto his knees and took another swing for good measure while Ferus shrieked.

“Padawans!” snapped Siri Tachi, who was apparently under the delusion that she could leave her young charges alone for sixty seconds to speak to Master Fisto. She pieced together what happened amid shouting and pointing.

“Are either of you hurt?”

“No, Master Tachi.”

“Then go shower off and gather your things. We’re done for today.”

Obi-Wan appeared looking like he had just woken up. He heard what had happened, then all but herded Anakin back to their quarters and sat him down sternly.

“Anakin, is this how you repay Master Tachi for doing us a favor?”

Anakin sighed. “I _know_ , it’s just _Ferus_. If he wasn’t so stuck up all the time-” Anakin was deeply rooted in the Living Force, but no amount of intuition could make up for the sheer fact that Ferus had learned to grip a saber hilt before he could toddle.

“Focus, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped. “This is about you, not Ferus. Training ‘saber or not, you have to respect your weapon and your opponent at all times. I know I’ve taught you that.”

“What was I supposed to do, let him keep beating me?”

“Yes, and learn from him if you can. That’s what a Jedi does.”

“It isn’t fair—”

“Did you listen to anything I just said?” Obi-Wan demanded. It came out like anger, but truthfully it was fear that was rising in Obi-Wan as Anakin continued to protest.

Obi-Wan drew in a breath. “Anakin, come sit with me.”

Obi-Wan led Anakin to the meditation cushions beside the bay window in their living area. Outside, light from the nocturnal city made the hazy clouds glow blue. Obi-Wan shut his eyes and centered on his breathing as he’d done so many times before.

It wasn’t long before Anakin started to get fidgety, and Obi-Wan was right there to guide him.

“What is the third tenet of the Jedi Code?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“There is no passion, there is serenity,” Anakin recited.

“Search your feelings, Anakin, and tell me why you provoked Ferus this afternoon.”

“I was angry,” said Anakin immediately.

“Why? He’d done nothing wrong.”

Anakin bristled. He hated when Obi-Wan asked questions as if he already knew all the answers. “I was angry that he kept beating me in ‘saber class. But it’s only ‘cause he has more practice.”

“That’s true. There will always be opponents who are more experienced than you. When you’re a knight someday, how will you cope with that?”

“When I’m a knight I’ll train every day and I’ll be the strongest.”

“No.” came Obi-Wan’s sharp reply. Passing on these lessons was more urgent now than ever - they were the only legacy that Obi-Wan could leave him. “You could master every lightsaber form known to the Jedi and still there would be battles you could not win. How do you think the Code would tell us to respond to them?”

“Not…not with passion? Which means not doing stuff just because you’re angry or sad.”

“It’s okay to feel angry or sad, Anakin. Listen to what your emotions are trying to tell you, but don’t blindly accept them as truth. Acting without passion means we _accept_ the truth instead of trying to change what we cannot control.”

“Easy for you to say,” Anakin grumbled. He stopped short of mentioning that for nine years of his life he had been denied control of pretty much anything. Obi-Wan couldn’t possibly understand. Anger was how you stayed alive on Tatooine.

“Perhaps,” said Obi-Wan in a small voice.

Anakin gulped as he realized that Obi-Wan probably did know that that felt like, in a different way.

He opened his eyes. “Master, are you really never going to get well again?”

“No, Anakin. My illness has no cure. I am going to rejoin the Force.”

“I want you to always be with me,” Anakin protested.

Obi-Wan flinched before he met Anakin’s gaze, suddenly vulnerable. “Anakin, I won’t be. I’m dying. I need to know that you’re going to be okay.”

It was too much to ask from the ten-year-old and Obi-Wan knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he backtracked, reassuring rather than seeking to be reassured. He squeezed both Anakin’s hands in his. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

* * *

 

Anakin will decide later that the following weeks felt like running down a hill. As the ground grows steeper, steps become smaller, quicker, tipping forwards as you can’t stop and gravity takes control. To Obi-Wan, it felt less like running and more like crumbling, a shore left a little smaller by each retreating wave.

Obi-Wan tried to find the words to express this feeling to Master Che as he sat in her office, looking listless. He had rejected her suggestion that he see a Mind Healer, but he needed something.

“You have to ask yourself what you want to accomplish with your time,” Master Che prompted him.

Obi-Wan considered that for a long moment before sitting up straighter.

“I want to take Anakin off-world. Someday he's planning to travel to every the star in the galaxy." Obi-Wan stated this childish goal as if it were completely reasonable. "But I only want to show him a few, while I still can."

“It will be taxing on your health,” the Master Healer warned. “And I’ll want to review each mission first – no underdeveloped worlds without proper med facilities or infectious disease hazards.”

Obi-Wan smiled, knowing that was her way of saying yes.

Che filled out the paperwork to rescind his medical suspension, and the Council cleared the Kenobi-Skywalker team for duty again. Obi-Wan suspected it was no coincidence that the first mission the Council assigned them took them back to Werrn. They spent a pleasant fortnight overseeing some planetary council elections and exploring Werrn’s quaint little seaside towns, simply spending time together as if they had left their problems behind at the Temple.

When they were planetside again, Bant Eerin took to dropping by with food as an excuse to check on him. Obi-Wan tried not to mind, especially when it was takeout from Dex’s Diner. Obi-Wan was inordinately fond of Dex's. It was truly just a greasy undercity burger joint, but in his mind it surpassed all other greasy undercity burger joints.

Obi-Wan tried to hand Bant a couple of credits but she shook her head. “Dex said this one was on him, pal,” she smiled.

“Force, does the whole galaxy know?” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

A stormy look crossed Anakin’s face. These days the slightest reference to Obi-Wan’s illness could reduce him to angry tears. Obi-Wan had tried to revisit the topic several times since that night, but to no avail.

Bant knew this, and when Obi-Wan left the room she whispered urgently, “Anakin, you’re hurting him. He needs to feel able talk about this.”

Anakin didn’t even respond. He pushed his chair back noisily, marched to his room and didn’t come out for the rest of the evening. And that frightened Obi-Wan even if the Code said it shouldn’t. _Let it go, let the Force flow over you like a stream and float it away._

Next they flew to Ragoon 6 while the planet’s unique fruit trees were in bloom, under some pretense involving a territory dispute that needed Jedi presence. They delivered a shipment of emergency rations to an Outer Rim territory suffering from famine, and made time to explore the planet’s breathtaking canyons and hot springs. Anakin gasped in wonder as they watched a geyser erupt, and Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder. He hoped the padawan would remember the good times they spent as much as the bad.

But just as Obi-Wan let down his guard, the inevitable happened. It started as a dry cough, then a slight fever. Che grimly recommended a laundry list of tests and heavy-duty antibiotic pills, knowing that it was essential to nip this in the bud.

Obi-Wan’s immune system was completely stripped of its defenses, and the pneumonia settled in his chest all too easily. Both lungs became heavily congested until the healers had no choice but to admit him overnight. Overnight turned into a few days, then a week as things weren’t improving. Anakin was a tempest. He refused to visit the Halls of Healing or even hear it spoken of; he got into fights during lessons that Bant chose not to tell Obi-Wan about.

Obi-Wan recognized the expression on Healer Ardelle’s face as she and a padawan healer studied an x-ray of his chest. “This doesn’t look good,” he observed, his breath fogging up the oxygen mask.

“This doesn’t look good,” Ardelle agreed. “But all will be as the Force wills.”

The urgency of the situation was clear to Obi-Wan. “Healer,” he rasped. “There’s someone that I need to talk to.”

* * *

 

“Wish to speak with me, I sensed you might, Knight Kenobi.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan felt as if he ought to stand and bow to the grandmaster, but that was out of the question. A padawan healer had helped him dress and travel from his bed to a chair, and just that short journey had worn him out. “The healers believe, well…it seems I will not be able to see my padawan through to knighthood.”

“Sorry to learn this, we all were,” Yoda nodded.

“I swore that I would train him. My master feared that no other Jedi would be willing to do it.”

“Doubt the wisdom of the Council so, few Jedi do,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. The grandmaster was only teasing, but the words sent a jolt of fear through Obi-Wan. How could he ask a fellow Jedi to defy the Council for him? Yet he had no choice. He could not let Qui-Gon down.

“Master Qui-Gon believed that it was essential for Anakin to become a Jedi,” Obi-Wan pressed. “And I still believe that. Is there no one else who would take him on?”

“Approve of the training, we did not. Still do not. Dangerous, the boy is.”

Obi-Wan felt his heart turn to lead, sinking, hopeless. He would fail even at this. He hoped that Qui-Gon would forgive him.

“First to bring this to my attention, you are not,” Yoda continued. “Come forward already, Knights Muln, Reeft and Eerin all have. If your wish, it is, the council will approve Knight Eerin to complete Skywalker’s training.”

A gush of affection welled up in Obi-Wan’s chest. Garen, Bant, Reeft. His closest friends, each willing to rearrange their plans, put their ambitions on hold for his and Anakin’s sakes. “Thank you, Master,” he managed though his throat felt oddly constricted.

“Troubling you, something else is, hmm?”

“No, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan lied.

Yoda simply waited.

Obi-Wan felt like a youngling again, back under Yoda’s stern but benevolent gaze as he stuttered through his recitation of the day’s lesson. “I am afraid sometimes. I know that is not our way,” he confessed.

“And what is it that you fear?”

From the very beginning, Jedi learn not to fear the end. From its nameless, faceless power they were made, and to it they must return, anonymous energy. But something primal within him still wanted to be _Obi-Wan_ , Jedi Knight from Stewjon, padawan to Qui-Gon and master to Anakin. He did not feel ready to give himself fully to the Force. He wasn’t sure how to admit this cardinal sin out loud.

“Persuade you to despair, your instincts would, and yet despair, you must not,” the grandmaster instructed him. “Trust in the Force, young Kenobi. Trust that when this fear, you come to face, ready, you will be.”

“What if I am ready and…and…”

“And ready, Padawan Skywalker is not?”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard.

“Understand our ways, Skywalker yet does not.”

“Master, I’ve tried to explain as much as I can.”

“Then do not explain. Show him, you must,” said Yoda with a nod. “Forget you must not, that the Force is with you, young Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head as he pondered that advice, wondering if he’d ever get to use it. It had been nine days, and Anakin still had not come to visit.

Yoda gave him a reassuring pat on the hand before he took his leave.

* * *

 

Bant dropped by daily, mumbling awkward apologies on Anakin’s behalf.

“He’s been asking about you a lot. I think he’s realized that ignoring it isn’t going to change reality. He’ll come around, any day now…”

“You can’t force him, Bant. It’s okay, really,” Obi-Wan insisted, although he was growing anxious.

But Bant decided she could and would force Anakin to accompany her when Obi-Wan took an unexpected turn. One hour he was awake and in good spirits, the next he was in acute respiratory distress. All the healers could do was give steroids and turn his oxygen up as high as it could go while he fought for his life.

Bant ran straight to the lesson halls, pulling Anakin out of his geography class.

“I mean it this time, Anakin. He needs you to be brave right now, can you do that?”

She expected Anakin to argue, but he must have noticed the seriousness in her tone. Anakin followed in stunned silence.


	3. iii. Anakin

iii. Anakin

Anakin Skywalker was no stranger to death. On the contrary, as a slave in an impoverished corner of the galaxy he had seen far too much of it. But the Temple was so vast, so pristine and grand that it seemed far away and safe from the horrors of Tatooine. Anakin had once thought the Jedi immortal, and although Naboo had painfully shattered that illusion, only now was Anakin forced to accept that death lurked here as well, not just in dusty hovels but in high-ceilinged halls.

He scampered through the corridors in Bant’s shadow. Guilt roiled in his stomach, and fear clawed at his heart.

Bant didn’t even glance back to see if he was still following before she swept into Obi-Wan’s room. Anakin expected to see his master sleeping – pale and feeble-looking perhaps. Instead he saw that Obi-Wan’s chest heaved in agony as he fought for breath. He punctuated each rasp with an ineffective cough that sounded as though he were choking on saliva.

Garen Muln was already sitting beside the bed when they arrived. Anakin didn’t miss the way he looked at Bant—he knew what might be happening. Obi-Wan had told him he had to accept it – but Force, not like this. _Not like this – please, don’t let it end with a struggle._ Tears blurred Anakin’s vision.

“Master,—” Anakin began, but was unable to think of what to say.

Bant placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” whispered Garen, his voice thick. “Come here, do you want to hold his hand?”

It was a long afternoon of uncertainty, but Obi-Wan rallied. When came to, still gasping through the excruciating pain, Anakin saw something in his eyes that shook him to the very core. Obi-Wan wanted it to be over. And for the first time, Anakin understood how that could be a blessing in its own right.

* * *

 

The first time they were alone together after the chaos, both master and padawan wept. So much had almost gone unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin kept repeating in a whimper. “I’m sorry I didn’t come, that I was too angry, I’m—”

“Shhh,” Obi-Wan made a weak attempt at a wave as if none of it mattered anymore. Obi-Wan had already forgiven him.

Obi-Wan thought of how Qui-Gon had often talked him through his emotions when he got tangled up in them. When he wanted Obi-Wan’s honesty, he would first offer his own. Obi-Wan took a measured breath. “I was angry at my master when he died,” he admitted.

Anakin raised his eyebrows.

It felt strange to speak out loud about losing Qui, but Obi-Wan forced himself to continue. “He taught me many things, but not how to live without him. I had to figure that out on my own.”

“You were sad a lot,” said Anakin. It was Obi-Wan’s turn to look surprised. He thought he’d done a decent job of hiding his grief.

“I was angry because I felt abandoned, and because he’d used his last breath to give me a task instead of saying goodbye. I knew how it felt to lose somebody, but I’d always had Qui to help me through. Ironically, I often wished that I could talk to him about it.”

“I know you need me to be brave,” Anakin whimpered. “But I’m not.”

[ _I can’t lose you]_ , a small voice whispered to Obi-Wan. They had never achieved such communication before. Fresh tears sprung to Obi-Wan’s eyes. He did not know if the strengthening of their Master-Padawan bond was going to make things easier or harder for Anakin in the weeks to come.

“Anakin, you are so brave. We all try to be…be open to the Force’s will but no Jedi is perfect. Qui told me once that the very worst times are the times we must follow the Code, not the other way ‘round. That’s what makes us Jedi.”

Anakin slowly nodded. “I remember that story.”

Obi-Wan pulled his padawan into a hug. Anakin was perhaps too old for such things by Jedi standards, but was hardly Obi-Wan’s fault if Shmi Skywalker had showered her son with physical reassurance. Hugs were a language that Anakin could understand.

“I don’t have much time, Anakin. I think it’s only fair that you should know that. But we have a chance that Qui-Gon and I were not given – a little bit of forewarning. I hope you feel that you can talk to me about what’s going on--and about what might happen in the future too.”

“I’m going to visit every day from now on, I promise,” said Anakin solemnly.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

 

Although Obi-Wan’s chest cleared up in a matter of days, the effort had cost him. Obi-Wan never quite regained his strength.

For the first week or so after Obi-Wan returned home, a healer visited their quarters daily to assist him. However it soon became apparent that he would be better off if he were placed permanently in the Halls of Healing. There was a wing in one of the inner levels designed for such a purpose, with healers on duty around the clock who specialized in end-of-life care. Anakin had protested, but Obi-Wan seemed to settle in well to his new surroundings.

The others were surprised at how blunt Obi-Wan became in light of his most recent crisis. He had no time or energy left to shy away from speaking about his own death; he was hyper-aware that things could go downhill as unexpectedly as they had before.

“I never go to sleep without wondering whether I’ll wake up,” he told Che with more honesty than sorrow. “I can’t afford to leave anything unfinished.”

He started with his old clanmates. From the very beginning, they were always four: Obi-Wan, Bant, Garen and Reeft. They never could have imagined that ten years later Obi-Wan would have a padawan, Bant would be a ‘saber instructor, Garen an ace in the Starfighter Corps and Reeft a sentry half a galaxy away. And they certainly wouldn’t have imagined sitting by a sunlit window in the Halls of Healing, saying goodbye.

Next came Siri and Ferus. Siri laughed with damp eyes as they recalled the havoc they’d wreaked together as padawans, and the frequent quarrels that had never divided them for long. Ferus stood two paces behind her, fidgeting as if unsure what to do with his hands. When it came time for them to depart, he stuttered, “Master Kenobi, I hope you feel better—I mean—obviously—I hope—” Ferus’s ears were red and he looked like he wanted to sprint home and never unlock his bedroom door again.

“Thank you, Ferus,” said Obi-Wan kindly, unable to resist a chuckle. “The sentiment is appreciated.”

Other friends and acquaintances came to call, and Obi-Wan found the goodbyes were easier once he got the hang of them. In the evening, he intended to share some final words with Anakin as well—final in a strictly symbolic sense, of course, for he knew that he would spend every moment he could with his padawan in the days he had left. But when the time came, he simply could not.

Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s cheek with one hand and frowned. “You look exhausted, Padawan.”

Anakin shrugged.

“It will be alright.”

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to say more. His hand reached up to brush against the breast pocket of his tunic.

While Anakin wasn’t looking, Obi-Wan pressed a square of parchment into Bant’s hand.

* * *

 

Bant brought Anakin to visit every day, often twice a day. Anakin learned to read his master’s body language as soon as he entered the room. Some days were good, and Obi-Wan was alert and listened eagerly to Anakin’s recounts of his latest adventures. They played dejarik or watched their favorite holodoc series about carnivores in the Mid Rim. Often they simply sat in companionable silence as Obi-Wan read and Anakin did his homework.

Other days, though, Obi-Wan spoke slowly and sluggishly as if he wanted to articulate a thought but his lips had forgotten how. He became prone to fits of anxiety, glancing around the room obsessively and wringing his hands, mumbling things that didn’t really make sense. On the worst days, he didn’t seem to know where he was or recognize the people around him. Those were the days that Anakin dreaded the most.

When Anakin wasn’t there, Obi-Wan didn’t bother to hide his frustration. He didn’t like how the drugs clouded his head, but he could not sleep with the pain. He could no longer walk or even stand, and the loss of his independence hit him hard. He’d informed the healers that he didn’t want any medical interventions—no ventilators, no feeding tubes in the weeks to come. “It should be in the hands of the Force,” he’d explained dryly, when he was sure the padawan was out of earshot. He finally agreed to see the Mind Healer, and took the antidepressants he prescribed. They helped a little.

Anakin hadn’t wanted to attend his class’s next training mission, but Obi-Wan had insisted. When, a week later, the padawan came bouncing into his room brimming with stories of his and Bant’s adventures, Obi-Wan knew he had made the right choice.

“And then we saw an Acklay, Master, just like the ones on the holo! I didn’t think it would really be so big! We didn’t get close but Master Bant helped me look up facts about it on the ‘pad afterwards, did you know…”

As Anakin prattled on proudly, Obi-Wan was struck by two thoughts in quick succession. The first made him glance away so Anakin wouldn’t see his face— _It’s like I’m not his master anymore_ , followed swiftly by a rush of relief, _Oh, thank the Force, he’s doing fine without me_.

Before long, the bad days outnumbered the good. Obi-Wan rarely attempted to communicate. He slept almost all the time now, waking for half an hour here and there, a few times a day at most. Anakin wondered whether that was a symptom of the cancer or the drugs. Obi-Wan had a permanent IV port in his arm now, with a pump that he could adjust himself depending on his level of pain.

There came a day when Obi-Wan seemed more alert than usual, but the pain in his master’s eye told Anakin it was only because he had laid off the medicine.

Anakin sat on his knees on the bed, taking Obi-Wan’s hand. “How are you feeling, Master?” he asked.

Obi-Wan could not seem to speak, but he gave Anakin’s hand a firm squeeze.

“I bested Ferus in ‘saber class today. I mean, he got me twice. But the third time he stumbled and I got him. I wish you could’ve been there. I miss sparring with you.”

“He’s making excellent progress, Obi,” Bant added. “He’s going to be a powerful knight.”

They sat quietly for a time. Anakin rubbed at his sleep-deprived eyes.

 _[Proud of you,]_ said a faint voice in Anakin’s mind. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Bant had heard it too, but she was oblivious. He gave Obi-Wan a bear hug and buried his face in Obi-Wan’s shirt to hide a small smile.

Three days later, Siri sat with Obi-Wan while he lay unresponsive. He hadn’t been eating lately, turning his lips away when a straw was held to them, and he hadn’t seemed properly awake since he last spoke to Anakin. The healer who came to replace his IV asked Siri, “Does his family need to be contacted?”

“He requested that they be notified afterwards,” Siri explained. “He didn’t want to see them. He never knew them, after all.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Does that mean I should send for his padawan...those who he is going to want beside him?”

The healer stood and motioned for Siri to follow her into the corridor.

“It should be painless,” she said, the only comfort she could offer. “His presence in the Force is growing tired, but he seems to be hanging on for something. It’d be good if you could talk to him – even if you’ve already said your goodbyes, say them again.”

Siri nodded, already typing Bant’s frequency into her commlink.

Anakin bolted and locked himself in a ‘fresher when they told him that Obi-Wan wasn’t going to wake up anymore. Garen spent the next hour sitting in the hallway, talking to him through the ‘fresher door, begging, “Try to be strong for him, little Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Siri kissed Obi-Wan’s forehead and thanked him for everything. Their friendship had nearly been destroyed when they agreed to set aside their romantic feelings after the mission on Cirrus, but having padawans had allowed them to drift back into each other’s lives, and for that she was grateful.

Bant whispered, “We’re right here with you, Obi-Wan,” took his hand and placed it over the pocket where she knew he always kept his river stone. But the pocket was uncharacteristically empty.

At length, Garen and Anakin appeared in the doorway, the latter with his eyes rubbed raw but looking determined. He crossed the room stiffly and waited until the adults had slipped out to begin.

It was amazing how one could be completely prepared for something in theory, and still be utterly shocked to meet it eye-to-eye. Anakin thought he had finally come to terms with the loss of his master, and here he was trembling in the face of the bitter end.

Anakin climbed into the bed and curled up against Obi-Wan’s side. His master wasn’t in pain right now, but Anakin remembered how much he’d been hurting for the past several weeks. “Master, it’s…it’s okay if you have to let go. I’ll be okay, I promise. I just...” Anakin sniffed uncontrollably, teetering on the edge of a sob.  “I love you,” he finished.

Bant peeked in to check on them and saw Anakin with his arms around his master. Tears dried on his cheeks as he snored softly. It was little wonder, with the number of sleepless nights Anakin had had recently. No one had the heart to even whisper the word ‘attachment’.

A sober gathering commenced in a seating area across the hall. Bant, Garen, and Siri sat together through the night, passing a pot of caf around and talking in hushed voices. The healers told them not to crowd Obi-Wan’s room, but they took shifts. Anakin slept soundly wrapped around Obi-Wan like he would never let go.

Obi-Wan passed away quietly in the middle of the night. Anakin was fast asleep.

Garen found them a short time afterwards. He woke the other two, then sank down to the floor and commed the healer with his head between his knees. Bant scooped Anakin up like a much younger child, gently unfolding the fingers that gripped Obi-Wan’s bony hand. Anakin didn’t stir until she was setting him down in an empty bed across the hall. In the morning, he felt certain that Qui-Gon Jinn had been there too, to tuck him in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short epilogue to follow - thank you once again for your kind words.


	4. Epilogue

The Jedi aren’t much for speaking at funerals. Grief, as with all emotions, is a private conversation between oneself and the Force. It makes Anakin uncomfortable, as if everything that Obi-Wan was is left unacknowledged.

The other attendees expressed reserved condolences to Anakin as they filed out. Anakin remembered Obi-Wan receiving the same after Qui-Gon’s funeral. Obi-Wan had not cried as he accepted their shallow sympathies. Anakin did not allow himself to cry.

He didn’t cry when he returned to Bant’s quarters either. He sat down on the bed which still didn’t feel like his own, staring blankly.

Bant broke the silence at last. “Anakin?”

“They don’t understand. None of them do,” he said, his tone devoid of all emotion.

Bant paused thoughtfully. “I think…just because they do not mourn publicly doesn’t mean they do not mourn at all, Anakin. It’s a cultural—”

“No, I mean they don’t understand what it was like to see him. At the end, when he was hurting so much. Sometimes it seemed like it wasn’t even him. And they don’t understand what it means now that he’s gone.”

“I know what you’re saying,” said Bant, sitting down beside him.

“Master Tahl trained you, Obi-Wan said,” stated Anakin.

“Yes. I wasn’t much older than you when she passed away. Master Fisto helped me through it. Obi-Wan did too. He was a good friend.”

“And a good master. I want people to remember that about him. I don’t want him to just be…be…gone into the Force like he wasn’t even here,” said Anakin.

“He isn’t gone,” Bant assured him. “You’re right, the others won’t understand how important that is unless they’ve lived it themselves. But you do.”

“Yeah,” Anakin shrugged, lips twisting into a sob. He had been brave all morning, and he was running out of stamina.

To Bant’s surprise, Anakin threw his arms around her neck and clung to her—for a Jedi, he certainly was a very tactile person. There was still much about him that Bant had yet to learn. She returned the embrace while Anakin cried, feeling her own heart ache with the loss of her lifelong friend.

* * *

 

It was three days before Bant broached the subject of moving Anakin into her quarters. He’d been living there for a month, but there were still a few lesson books and half-dissected remote droids that symbolically marked his residence in the apartment that he once shared with Obi-Wan.

It went smoothly until Bant tried to enter Obi-Wan’s room, and Anakin balked. No one had been inside since Obi-Wan had vacated the room, and his belongings were still arranged the way he had left them.

“Anakin,” said Bant patiently. “They are just _things_. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi to place significance on material—oh, Anakin.”

Hot tears were spilling down Anakin’s cheeks again.

“Why don’t we go inside together? We won’t touch or move anything until you’re ready.”

Lofty windows invited rays of sun into the simple, tidy room. Like most Jedi, Obi-Wan had very few personal effects. Except for some sketchbooks and a couple of indoor plants that once belonged to Qui-Gon Jinn, there was little that could be considered extraneous or sentimental. His clothes were folded neatly and all the pads and papers on his writing desk were painstakingly filed – save one. In the center of the desk sat a single square of paper topped by a smooth black stone. Light from the window illuminated swirls of red on its ebony surface.

Anakin felt a pang of regret as he took the river stone in his hand, watching the light dance off its shiny surface. He stuffed it into his pocket along with the note before Bant could see.

* * *

 

Anakin Skywalker sits forward again and his braid bounces against his shoulder as all four chair legs hit the floor. Knighthood seems a much weightier responsibility than he once thought – ever since Master Windu’s return with unsettling news from Kamino, it seems increasingly clear that there will soon be war.

Bant has already come in to say goodnight and wish him well – ritual dictates that he rise early and meditate alone before the trials, so the next time he sees her, it will be in front of the Council. As he faces whatever challenges await, it will comfort him to know that the knight he’s come to love like an older sister is watching, believing in him. Yet it still feels bitterly unfair. Neither can forget that he should be sharing this accomplishment with someone else. ( _I let him go, I couldn’t save him_ – in any life and every universe this powerlessness against death taunts Anakin. It provokes something bestial in him that he does not yet understand; he cannot lose anyone else the way he lost Obi-Wan, the way he lost Shmi).

Anakin reaches into the top drawer of his desk. He pulls out a square of paper, unfolds its well-worn creases, and reads,

_My dear Anakin,_

_Like you, I did not understand the value of this stone at first glance, but my master encouraged me to take a second look. It is a conductor of the Force, and it once helped me defeat a device that would have wiped my memory. Keep your memories close, dear Padawan, but do not make the mistake of living in them. You must continue to learn and grow and accomplish the great things I know you are capable of. Remember that the Force is always with you, and as I become a part of the Force I will also always be with you._

_–Obi-Wan_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and especially those who left kudos and comments. This work was over a year in the making & is close to my heart <3


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